A TUNISIAN JEWESS IN STREET DRESS.Albert, Photo., Tunis.A TUNISIAN JEWESS IN STREET DRESS.
The Mohammedan women seen in the streets generally wear an elegant fine silk and wool haïk over a costume culminating in a peaked cap, the face being covered—all but the eyes—by two black handkerchiefs, awful to behold, like the mask of a stage villain. More stylish women wear a larger veil, which they stretch out on either side in front of them with their hands. They seem to think nothing of sitting in a railway carriage opposite a man and chatting gaily with him. I learn from an English lady resident in Tunis that the indoor costume of the women is much that of the Jewesses out of doors—extraordinary indeed. It is not every day that one meets ladies in the street in long white drawers, often tight, and short jackets, black or white, but this is the actual walking dress of the Jewish ladies of Tunis.
[page 326]
"Every sheep hangs by her own legs."
Moorish Proverb.
When, after an absence of twenty months, I found myself in Tripoli, although far enough from Morocco, I was still amid familiar sights and sounds which made it hard to realize that I was not in some hitherto unvisited town of that Empire. The petty differences sank to naught amid the wonderful resemblances. It was the Turkish element alone which was novel, and that seemed altogether out of place, foreign as it is to Africa. There was something quite incongruous in the sight of those ungainly figures in their badly fitting, quasi-European black coats and breeches, crowned with tall and still more ungainly red caps. The Turks are such an inferior race to the Berbers and Arabs that it is no wonder that they are despised by the natives. They appear much more out of place than do the Europeans, who remain, as in Morocco, a class by themselves. To see a Turk side by side with a white-robed native at prayer in a mosque is too ridiculous, and to see him eating like a wild man of the woods! Even the governor, a benign old gentleman, looked very undignified in his shabby European surroundings, after the important[page 327]appearance of the Moorish functionaries in their flowing robes. The sentinels at the door seemed to have been taught to imitate the wooden salute of the Germans, which removes any particle of grace which might have remained in spite of their clumsy dress. It is a strange sight to see them selling their rations of uninviting bread in the market to buy something more stimulating. They squat behind a sack on the ground as the old women do in Tangier. These are the little things reminding one that Tripoli is but a Turkish dependency.
We may complain of the Moorish customs arrangements, but from my own experience, and from what others tell me, I should say that here is worse still. Not only were our things carefully overhauled, but the books had to be examined, as a result of which process Arabic works are often confiscated, either going in or out. The confusing lack of a monetary system equals anything even in southern Morocco, between which and this place the poor despised "gursh" turns up as a familiar link, not to be met with between Casablanca and Tripoli.
Perhaps the best idea of the town for those readers acquainted with Morocco will be to call it a large edition of Casablanca. The country round is flat, the streets are on the whole fairly regular, and wider than the average in this part of the world. Indeed, carriages are possible, though not throughout the town. A great many more flying arches are thrown across the streets than we are accustomed to further west, but upper storeys are rare. The paving is of the orthodox Barbary style.
The Tripolitan mosques are of a very different[page 328]style from those of Morocco, the people belonging to a different sect—the Hánafis—Moors, Algerines and Tunisians being of the more rigorous Málikis. Instead of the open courtyard surrounded by a colonnade, here they have a perfectly closed interior roofed with little domes, and lighted by barred windows. The walls are adorned with inferior tiles, mostly European, and the floors are carpeted. Round the walls hang cheap glazed texts from the Korán, and there is a general appearance of tawdry display which is disappointing after the chaste adornment of the finer Moorish mosques, or even the rude simplicity of the poorer ones. Orders may be obtained to view these buildings, of which it is hardly necessary to say I availed myself, in one case ascending also the minaret. These minarets are much less substantial than those of Morocco, being octangular, with protruding stone balconies in something of the Florentine style, reached by winding stairs. The exteriors are whitewashed, the balconies being tiled, and the cupolas painted green. Lamps are hung out at certain feasts. As for the voice of the muédhdhin, it must be fairly faint, since during the week I was there I never heard it. In Morocco this would have been an impossibility.
The language, though differing in many minor details from that employed in Morocco, presents no difficulty to conversation, but it was sometimes necessary to try a second word to explain myself. The differences are chiefly in the names of common things in daily use, and in common adjectives. The music was identical with what we know in the "Far West." Religious strictness is much less than in[page 329]Morocco, the use of intoxicants being fairly general in the town, the hours of prayer less strictly kept, and the objection to portraits having vanished. There seemed fewer women in the streets than in Morocco, but those who did appear were for the most part less covered up; there was nothing new in the way the native women were veiled, only one eye being shown—I do not now take the foreign Turks into account.
In the streets the absence of the better-class natives is most noticeable; one sees at once that Tripoli is not an aristocratic town like Fez, Tetuan, or Rabat. The differences which exist between the costumes observed and those of Morocco are almost entirely confined to the upper classes. The poor and the country people would be undistinguishable in a Moorish crowd. Among the townsfolk stockings and European shoes are common, but there are no native slippers to equal those of Morocco, and yellow ones are rare. I saw no natives riding in the town; though in the country it must be more common. The scarcity of four-footed beasts of burden is noticeable after the crowded Moorish thoroughfares.
On the whole there is a great lack of the picturesque in the Tripoli streets, and also of noise. The street cries are poor, being chiefly those of vegetable hawkers, and one misses the striking figure of the water-seller, with his tinkling bell and his cry.
The houses and shops are much like those of Morocco, so far as exteriors go, and so are the interiors of houses occupied by Europeans. The only native house to which I was able to gain access was furnished in the worst possible mixture[page 330]of European and native styles to be found in many Jewish houses in Morocco, but from what I gleaned from others this was no exception to the rule.
Unfortunately the number of grog-shops is unduly large, with all their attendant evils. The wheeled vehicles being foreign, claim no description, though the quaintness of the public ones is great. Palmetto being unknown, the all-pervading halfah fibre takes its place for baskets, ropes, etc. The public ovens are very numerous, and do not differ greatly from the Moorish, except in being more open to the street. The bread is much less tempting; baked in small round cakes, varnished, made yellow with saffron, and sprinkled with gingelly seed. Most of the beef going alive to Malta, mutton is the staple animal food; vegetables are much the same as in Morocco.
The great drawback to Tripoli is its proximity to the desert, which, after walking through a belt of palms on the land side of the town—itself built on a peninsula—one may see rolling away to the horizon. The gardens and palm groves are watered by a peculiar system, the precious liquid being drawn up from the wells by ropes over pulleys, in huge leather funnels of which the lower orifice is slung on a level with the upper, thus forming a bag. The discharge is ingeniously accomplished automatically by a second rope over a lower pulley, the two being pulled by a bullock walking down an incline. The lower lip being drawn over the lower pulley, releases the water when the funnel reaches the top.
The weekly market, Sôk et-Thláthah, held on the sands, is much as it would be in the Gharb el[page 331]Jawáni, as Morocco is called in Tripoli. The greater number of Blacks is only natural, especially when it is noted that hard by they have a large settlement.
OUTSIDE TRIPOLI.Photograph by G. Michell, Esq.OUTSIDE TRIPOLI.
It would, of course, be possible to enter into a much more minute comparison, but sufficient has been said to give a general idea of Tripoli to those who know something of Morocco, without having entered upon a general description of the place. From what I saw of the country people, I have no doubt that further afield the similarity between them and the people of central and southern Morocco, to whom they are most akin, would even be increased.
[page 332]
"Every one buries his mother as he likes."
Moorish Proverb.
Much as I had been prepared by the accounts of others to observe the prevalence of Moorish remains in the Peninsula, I was still forcibly struck at every turn by traces of their influence upon the country, especially in what was their chief home there, Andalucia. Though unconnected with these traces, an important item in strengthening this impression is the remarkable similarity between the natural features of the two countries. The general contour of the surface is the same on either side of the straits for a couple of hundred miles; the same broad plains, separated by low ranges of hills, and crossed by sluggish, winding streams, fed from distant snow-capped mountains, and subject to sudden floods. The very colours of the earth are the same in several regions, the soil being of that peculiar red which gives its name to the Blád Hamrá ("Red Country") near Marrákesh. This is especially observable in the vicinity of Jeréz, and again at Granáda, where one feels almost in[page 333]Morocco again. Even the colour of the rugged hills and rocks is the same, but more of the soil is cultivated than in any save the grain districts of Morocco.
The vegetation is strikingly similar, the aloe and the prickly pear, the olive and the myrtle abounding, while from the slight glimpses I was able to obtain of the flora, the identity seems also to be continued there. Yet all this, though interesting to the observer, is not to be wondered at. It is our habit of considering the two lands as if far apart, because belonging to separate continents, which leads us to expect a difference between countries divided only by a narrow gap of fourteen miles or less, but one from whose formation have resulted most important factors in the world's history.
The first striking reminders of the Moorish dominion are the names of Arabic origin. Some of the most noteworthy are Granáda (Gharnátah), Alcazar (El Kasar), Arjona (R'honah), Gibraltar (Gibel Tárik), Trafalgár (Tarf el Gharb, "West Point"), Medinah (Madînah, "Town"), Algeciras (El Jazîrah, "The Island"), Guadalquivir (Wád el Kebeer—so pronounced in Spain—"The Great River"), Mulahacen (Mulai el Hasan), Alhama (El Hama, "The Hot Springs"), and numberless others which might be mentioned, including almost every name beginning with "Al."
The rendering of these old Arabic words into Spanish presents a curious proof of the changes which the pronunciation of the Spanish alphabet has undergone during the last four centuries. To obtain anything like the Arabic sound it is necessary to give the letters precisely the same[page 334]value as in English, with the exception of pronouncing "x" as "sh." Thus the word "alhaja," in everyday use—though unrecognizable as heard from the lips of the modern Castilian, "aláha,"—is nothing but the Arabic "el hájah," with practically the same meaning in the plural, "things" or "goods." To cite more is unnecessary. The genuine pronunciation is still often met with among Jews of Morocco who have come little in contact with Spaniards, and retain the language of their ancestors when expelled from the Peninsula, as also in Spanish America.
The Spanish language is saturated with corrupted Arabic, at all events so far as nouns are concerned. The names of families also are frequently of Arabic origin, as, for instance, Alarcos (Er-Rakkás—"the courier"), Alhama, etc., most of which are to be met with more in the country than in the towns, while very many others, little suspected as such, are Jewish. Although when the most remarkable of nations was persecuted and finally expelled from Spain, a far larger proportion nobly sacrificed their all rather than accept the bauble religion offered them by "The Catholic Kings" (King and Queen), they also have left their mark, and many a noble family could, if it would, trace its descent from the Jews. Some of their synagogues are yet standing, notably at Toledo—whence the many Toledános,—built by Samuel Levy, who was secretary to Don Pedro the Cruel. This was in 1336, a century and a half before the Moors were even conquered, much less expelled, and if the sons of Ishmael have left their mark upon that sunny land, so have the sons of[page 335]Israel, though in a far different manner. Morocco has ever since been the home of the descendants of a large proportion of the exiles.
The Spanish physiognomy, not so much of the lower as of the upper classes, is strikingly similar to that of the mountaineers of Morocco, and these include some of the finest specimens. The Moors of to-day are of too mingled a descent to present any one distinct type of countenance, and it is the same with the Spaniards. So much of the blood of each flows in the veins of the other, that comparison is rendered more difficult. It is a well-known fact that several of the most ancient families in the kingdom can trace their descent from Mohammedans. A leading instance of this is the house of Mondéjar, lords of Granáda from the time of its conquest, as the then head of the house, Sidi Yahia, otherwise Don Pedro de Granáda, had become a Christian. In the Generalife at that town, still in the custody of the same family, is a genealogical tree tracing its origin right back to the Goths!*
Next to physiognomy come habits and customs, and of these there are many which have been borrowed, or rather retained, from the Moors, especially in the country. The ploughs, the water-mills, the water-wheels, the irrigation, the treading out of the corn, the weaving of coarse cloth, and many other daily sights, from their almost complete similarity, remind one of Morocco. The bread-shops they call "tahônas," unaware that this is the Arabic for a flour-mill; their water-wheels they still call by their Arabic name, "naôrahs," and it is[page 336]the same with their pack-saddles, "albardas" (bardah). The list might be extended indefinitely, even from such common names as these.
The salutations of the people seem literal translations of those imported from the Orient, such as I am not aware of among other Europeans. What, for instance, is "Dios guarda Vd." ("God keep you"), said at parting, but the "Allah îhannak" of Morocco, or "se lo passe bien," but "B'is-salámah" ("in peace!"). More might be cited, but to those unacquainted with Arabic they would be of little interest.
Then, again, the singing of the country-folk in southern Spain has little to distinguish it from that indulged in by most Orientals. The same sing-song drawl with numerous variations is noticeable throughout. Once a more civilized tune gets among these people for a few months, its very composer would be unlikely to recognize its prolongations and lazy twists.
The narrow, tortuous streets of the old towns once occupied by the invaders take one back across the straits, and the whole country is covered with spots which, apart from any remains of note, are associated by record or legend with anecdotes from that page of Spanish history. Here it is the "Sigh of the Moor," the spot from which the last Ameer of Andalucia gazed in sorrow on the capital that he had lost; there it is a cave (at Criptana) where the Moors found refuge when their power in Castile was broken; elsewhere are the chains (in Toledo) with which the devotees of Islám chained their Christian captives.
In addition to this, the hills of a great part[page 337]of Spain are dotted with fortresses of "tabia" (rammed earth concrete) precisely such as are occupied still by the country kaïds of Morocco; and by the wayside are traces of the skill exercised in bringing water underground from the hills beyond Marrákesh. How many church towers in Spain were built for the call of the muédhdhin, and how many houses had their foundations laid for hareems! In the south especially such are conspicuous from their design. To crown all stand the palaces and mosques of Córdova, Sevílle, and Granáda, not to mention minor specimens.
When we talk of the Moors in Spain, we often forget how nearly we were enabled to speak also of the Moors in France. Their brave attempts to pass that natural barrier, the Pyrenees, find a suitable monument in the perpetual independence of the wee republic of Andorra, whose inhabitants so successfully stemmed the tide of invasion. The story of Charles Martel, too, the "Hammer" who broke the Muslim power in that direction, is one of the most important in the history of Europe. What if the people who were already levying taxes in the districts of Narbonne and Nîmes had found as easy a victory over the vineyards of southern France, as they had over those of Spain? Where would they have stopped? Would they ever have been driven out, or would St. Paul's have been a second Kûtûbîya, and Westminster a Karûeeïn? God knows!
*Andalucia is but a corruption of Vandalucia.
[page 338]
The earliest notable monument of Moorish dominion in Andalucia still existing is the famous mosque of Córdova, now deformed into a cathedral. Its erection occupied the period from 786 to 796 of the Christian era, and it is said that it stands on the site of a Gothic church erected on the ruins of a still earlier temple dedicated to Janus. Portions, however, have been added since that date, as inscriptions on the walls record, and the European additions date from 1521, when, notwithstanding the protests of the people of Córdova, the bishops obtained permission from Charles V. to rear the present quasi-Gothic structure in its central court. The disgust and anger which the lover of Moorish architecture—or art of any sort—feels for the name of "Carlos quinto," as at point after point hideous additions to the Moorish remains are ascribed to that conceited monarch, are somewhat tempered for once by the record that even he repented when he saw the result of his permission in this instance. "You have built here," he said, "what you might have built anywhere, and in doing so you have spoiled what was unique in the world!" In each of the three great centres of Moorish rule, Sevílle, Granáda and Córdova, the same hand is responsible for outrageous modern erections in the midst of hoary monuments of eastern art, carefully inscribed with their author's name, as "Cæsar the Emperor, Charles the Fifth."
The Córdova Mosque, antedated only by those of Old Cairo and Kaïrwán, is a forest of marble[page 339]pillars, with a fine court to the west, surrounded by an arcade, and planted with orange trees and palms, interspersed with fountains. Nothing in Morocco can compare with it save the Karûeeïn mosque at Fez, built a century later, but that building is too low, and the pillars are for the most part mere brick erections, too short to afford the elegance which here delights. This is grand in its simplicity; nineteen aisles of slightly tapering columns of beautiful marbles, jasper or porphyry, about nine feet in height, supporting long vistas of flying horse-shoe arches, of which the stones are now coloured alternately yellow and red, though probably intended to be all pure white. Other still more elegant scolloped arches, exquisitely decorated by carving the plaster, spring between alternate pillars, and from arch to arch, presumably more modern work.
The aisles are rather over twenty feet in width, and the thirty-three cross vaultings about half as much, while the height of the roof is from thirty to forty feet. In all, the pillars number about 500, though frequently stated to total 850 out of an original 1419, but it is difficult to say where all these can be, since the sum of 33 by 19 is only 627, and a deduction has to be made for the central court, in which stands the church or choir. Since these notes were first published, in 1890, I have seen it disputed between modern impressionist writers which of them first described the wonderful scene as a palm grove, a comparison of which I had never heard when I wrote, but the wonder to me would be if any one could attempt to picture the scene without making use of it.
[page 340]
Who but a nation of nomads, accustomed to obey the call to prayer beneath the waving branches of African and Arabian palm-groves, would have dreamed of raising such a House of God? Unless for the purpose of supporting a wide and solid roof, or of dividing the centre into the form of a cross, what other ecclesiastical architects would have conceived the idea of filling a place of worship with pillars or columns? No one who has walked in a palm-grove can fail to be struck by the resemblance to it of this remarkable mosque. The very tufted heads with their out-curving leaves are here reproduced in the interlacing arches, and with the light originally admitted by the central court and the great doors, the present somewhat gloomy area would have been bright and pleasant as a real grove, with its bubbling fountains, and the soothing sound of trickling streams. I take the present skylights to be of modern construction, as I never saw such a device in a Moorish building.
Most of the marble columns are the remains of earlier erections, chiefly Roman, like the bridge over the Guadalquivir close by, restored by the builder of the mosque. Some, indeed, came from Constantinople, and others were brought from the south of France. They are neither uniform in height nor girth—some having been pieced at the bottom, and others partly buried;—so also with the capitals, certain of which are evidently from the same source as the pillars, while the remainder are but rude imitations, mostly Corinthian in style. The original expenses of the building were furnished by a fifth of the booty taken from the Spaniards, with the subsidies raised in Catalonia and Narbonne. The[page 341]Moors supplied voluntary, and European captives forced labour.
A SHRINE IN CORDOVA MOSQUE.A SHRINE IN CORDOVA MOSQUE.
On Fridays, when the Faithful met in thousands for the noon-day prayer, what a sight and what a melody! The deep, rich tones of the organ may add impressiveness to a service of worship, but there is nothing in the world so grand, so awe-inspiring as the human voice. When a vast body of males repeats the formulæ of praise, together, but just slightly out of time, the effect once heard is never forgotten. I have heard it often, and as I walk these aisles I hear it ringing in my ears, and can picture to myself a close-packed row of white-robed figures between each pillar, and rows from end to end between, all standing, stooping, or forehead on earth, as they follow the motions of the leader before them. A grand sight it is, whatever may be one's opinion of their religion. In the manner they sit on the matted floors of their mosques there would be room here for thirteen thousand without using the Orange Court, and there is little doubt that on days when the Court attended it used to be filled to its utmost.
To the south end of the cathedral the floor of two wide aisles is raised on arches, exactly opposite the niche which marks the direction of Mekka, and the space above is more richly decorated than any other portion of the edifice except the niche itself. This doubtless formed the spot reserved for the Ameer and his Court, screened off on three sides to prevent the curiosity of the worshippers overcoming their devotion, as is still arranged in the mosques which the Sultan of Morocco attends in his capitals. Until a few years ago this rich[page 342]work in arabesque and tiles was hidden by plaster.
The kiblah niche is a gem of its kind. It consists of a horse-shoe arch, the face of which is ornamented with gilded glass mosaic, forming the entrance to a semi-circular recess beautifully adorned with arabesques and inscriptions, the top of the dome being a large white marble slab hollowed out in the form of a pecten shell. The wall over the entrance is covered with texts from the Korán, forming an elegant design, and on either side are niches of lesser merit, but serving to set off the central one which formed the kiblah. Eleven centuries have elapsed since the hands of the workmen left it, and still it stands a witness of the pitch of art attained by the Berbers in Spain.
It is said that here was deposited a copy of the Korán written by Othmán himself, and stained with his blood, of such a size that two men could hardly lift it. When, for a brief period, the town fell into the hands of Alfonso VII., his soldiers used the mosque as a stable, and tore up this valuable manuscript. When a Moorish Embassy was sent to Madrid some years ago, the members paid a visit to this relic of the greatness of their forefathers, and to the astonishment of the custodians, having returned to the court-yard to perform the required ablutions, re-entered, slippers in hand, to go through the acts of worship as naturally as if at home. What a strange sight for a Christian cathedral! Right in front of the niche is a plain marble tomb with no sign but a plain bar dexter. Evidently supposing this to be the resting-place of some saint of their own persuasion, they made the[page 343]customary number of revolutions around it. It would be interesting to learn from their lips what their impressions were.
Of the tower which once added to the imposing appearance of the building, it is recorded that it had no rival in height known to the builders. It was of stone, and, like one still standing in Baghdád from the days of Harûn el Rasheed, had two ways to the top, winding one above the other, so that those who ascended by the one never met those descending by the other. According to custom it was crowned by three gilded balls, and it had fourteen windows. This was of considerably later date than the mosque itself, but has long been a thing of the past.
The European additions to the Córdova mosque are the choir, high altar, etc., which by themselves would make a fine church, occupying what must have been originally a charming court, paved with white marble and enlivened by fountains; the tower, built over the main entrance, opening into the Court of Oranges; and a score or two of shrines with iron railings in front round the sides, containing altars, images, and other fantastic baubles to awe the ignorant. An inscription in the tower records that it was nearly destroyed by the earth-quake of 1755, and though it is the least objectionable addition, it is a pity that it did not fall on that or some subsequent occasion. It was raised on the ruins of its Moorish predecessor in 1593. The chief entrance, like that of Sevílle, is a curious attempt to blend Roman architecture with Mauresque, having been restored in 1377, but the result is not bad. Recent "restorations" are observable[page 344]in some parts of the mosque, hideous with colour, but a few of the original beams are still visible. I am inclined to consider the greater part of the roof modern, but could not inspect it closely enough to be certain. Though vaulted inside, it is tiled in ridges in the usual Moorish style, but very few green tiles are to be seen.
From the tower the view reminds one strongly of Morocco. The hills to the north and south, with the river winding close to the town across the fertile plain, give the scene a striking resemblance to that from the tower of the Spanish consulate at Tetuan. All around are the still tortuous streets of a Moorish town, though the roofs of the houses are tiled in ridges of Moorish pattern, as those of Tangier were when occupied by the English two hundred years ago, and as those of El K'sar are now.
The otherwise Moorish-looking building at one's feet is marred by the unsightly erection in the centre, and its court-yard seems to have degenerated into a play-ground, where the neighbours saunter or fill pitchers from the fountains.
After enduring the apparently unceasing din of the bells in those erstwhile stations of the muédhdhin, one ceases to wonder that the lazy Moors have such a detestation for them, and make use instead of the stirring tones of the human voice. Rest and quiet seem impossible in their vicinity, for their jarring is simply head-splitting. And as if they were not excruciating enough, during "Holy Week" they conspire against the ear-drums of their victims by revolving a sort of infernal machine made of wood in the form of a hollow cross, with[page 345]four swinging hammers on each arm which strike against iron plates as the thing goes round. The keeper's remark that the noise was awful was superfluous.
The history of the town of Córdova has been as chequered as that of most Andalucian cities. Its foundation is shrouded in obscurity. The Romans and Vandals had in turn been its masters before the Moors wrested it from the Spaniards in the year 710a.d.Though the Spaniards regained possession of it in 1075, it was not for long, as it soon fell into the hands of the invaders once more. The Spanish victors only left a Moorish viceroy in charge, who proved too true a Berber to serve against his countrymen, so he betrayed his trust. In 1236 it was finally recovered by the Spaniards, after five hundred and twenty-four years of Moorish rule. Since that time the traces of that epoch of its history have been gradually disappearing, till there only remain the mutilated mosque, and portions of the ancient palace, or of saint-houses (as the side-chapel of the Church of St. Miguel), and of a few dwellings. Since the first train steamed to this ancient city, in 1859, the railway has probably brought as many pilgrims to the mosque as ever visited it from other motives in its greatest days.
The industry founded here by the Moors—that of tanning—which has given its name to a trade in several countries,*seems to have gone with them to Morocco, for though many of the old tan-pits still exist by the river side, no leather of any repute is now produced here. The Moorish[page 346]water-mills are yet at work though, having been repaired and renewed on the original model. These, as at Granáda and other places, are horizontal wheels worked from a small spout above, directly under the mill-stone, such as is met with in Fez and Tetuan.
*Sp.cordován, Fr.cordonnier, Eng.cordwainer, etc.
In the Girálda tower of Sevílle I expected to find a veritable Moorish trophy in the best state of preservation, open to that minute inspection which was impossible in the only complete specimen of such a tower, the Kutûbîya, part of a mosque still in use. Imagine, then, my regret on arriving at the foot of that venerable monument, to find it "spick and span," as if just completed, looking new and tawdry by the side of the cathedral which has replaced the mosque it once adorned. Instead of the hoary antiquity to which the rich deep colour of the stone of the sister towers in Morocco bears witness in their weather-beaten glory, this one, built, above the first few stone courses, of inch pan-tiles, separated by a like thickness of mortar, has the appearance of having been newly pointed and rubbed down, while faded frescoes on the walls testify to the barbarity of the conquerors of the "barbarians."
The delicate tracery in hewn stone which adds so greatly to the beauty of the Morocco and Tlemçen examples, is almost entirely lacking, while the once tasteful horse-shoe windows are now pricked out in red and yellow, with a hideous modern balcony of white stone before each. The[page 347]quasi-Moorish belfry is the most pardonable addition, but to crown all is an exhibition of incongruity which has no excuse. The original tile-faced turret of the Moors, with its gilded balls, has actually been replaced by a structure of several storeys, the first of which is Doric, the second Ionic, and the third Corinthian. Imagine this crowning the comely severity of the solid Moorish structure without a projecting ornament! But this is not all. Swinging in gaunt uneasiness over the whole, stands a huge revolving statue, supposed to represent Faith, holding out in one hand a shield which catches the wind, and causes it to act as a weather-vane.
Such is the Girálda of the twentieth century, and the guide-books are full of praises for the restorer, who doubtless deserves great credit for his skill in repairing the tower after it had suffered severely from lightning, but who might have done more towards restoring the original design, at all events in the original portion. We read in "Raôd el Kártás" that the mosque was finished and the tower commenced in 1197, during the reign of Mulai Yakûb el Mansûr, who commenced its sisters at Marrákesh and Rabat in the same year. One architect is recorded to have designed all three—indeed, they have little uncommon in their design, and have been once almost alike. Some assert that this man was a Christian, but there is nothing in the style of building to favour such a supposition.
The plan is that of all the mosque towers of Morocco, and the only tower of a mosque in actual use which I have ascended in that country—one at Mogador—was just a miniature of this. It is, therefore, in little else than point of size that these[page 348]three are remarkable. The similarity between these and the recently fallen tower of St. Mark's at Venice is most striking, both in design and in the method of ascent by an inclined plane; while around the Italian lakes are to be seen others of less size, but strongly resembling these.
All three are square, and consist of six to eight storeys in the centre, with thick walls and vaulted roof, surrounded by an inclined plane from base to summit, at an angle which makes it easy walking, and horses have been ridden up. The unfinished Hassan Tower at Rabat having at one time become a place of evil resort, the reigning ameer ordered the way up to be destroyed, but it was found so hard that only the first round was cut away, and the door bricked up. Each ramp of the Girálda, if I remember rightly, has its window, but in the Hassan many are without light, though at least every alternate one has a window, some of these being placed at the corner to serve for two, while here they are always in the centre. The Girálda proper contains seven of these storeys, with thirty-five ramps. To the top of the eighth storey, which is the first addition, dating from the sixteenth century, now used as a belfry, the height is about 220 feet. The present total height is a little over 300 feet.
The original turret of the Girálda, similar to that at Marrákesh, was destroyed in 1396 by a hurricane. The additions were finished in 1598. An old view, still in existence, and dating from the thirteenth century, shows it in its pristine glory, and there is another—Moorish—as old as the tower itself.
[page 349]
After all that I had read and heard of the palace at Sevílle, I was more disappointed than even in the case of the Girálda. Not only does it present nothing imposing in the way of Moorish architecture, but it has evidently been so much altered by subsequent occupants as to have lost much of its original charm. To begin with the outside, instead of wearing the fine crumbling appearance of the palaces of Morocco or Granáda, this also had been all newly plastered till it looks like a work of yesterday, and coloured a not unbecoming red. Even the main entrance has a Gothic inscription half way up, and though its general aspect is that of Moorish work, on a closer inspection, the lower part at least is seen to be an imitation, as in many ways the unwritten laws of that style have been widely departed from. The Gothic inscription states that Don Pedro I. built it in 1364.
Inside, the general ground plan remains much as built, but connecting doorways have been opened where Moors never put them, and with the exception of the big raised tank in the corner, there is nothing African about the garden. Even the plan has been in places destroyed to obtain rooms of a more suitable width for the conveniences of European life. The property is a portion of the Royal patrimony, and is from time to time occupied by the reigning sovereign when visiting Sevílle. A marble tablet in one of these rooms tells of a queen having been born there during the last century.
Much of the ornamentation on the walls is of course original, as well as some of the ceilings and doors, but the "restorations" effected at various[page 350]epochs have greatly altered the face of things. Gaudy colours show up both walls and ceilings, but at the same time greatly detract from their value, besides which there are coarse imitations of the genuine tile-work, made in squares, with lines in relief to represent the joints, as well as patterns painted on the plaster to fill up gaps in the designs. Then, too, the most prominent parts of the ornamentation have been disfigured by the interposition of Spanish shields and coats-of-arms on tiles. The border round the top of the dado is alternated with these all the way round some of the rooms. To crown all, certain of the fine old doors, resembling a wooden patchwork, have been "restored" with plaster-of-Paris. Some of the arabesques which now figure on these walls were actually pillaged from the Alhambra.
Many of the Arabic inscriptions have been pieced so as to render them illegible, and some have been replaced upside down, while others tell their own tale, for they ascribe glory and might to a Spanish sovereign, Don Pedro the Cruel, instead of to a "Leader of the Faithful." A reference to the history of the country tells us that this ruler "reconstructed" the palace of the Moors, while later it was repaired by Don Juan II., before Ferdinand and Isabella built their oratories within its precincts, or Charles V., with his mania for "improving" these monuments of a foreign dominion, doubled it in size. For six centuries this work, literally of spoliation, has been proceeding in the hands of successive owners; what other result than that arrived at, could be hoped for?
When this is realized, the greater portion of[page 351]the historic value of this palace vanishes, and its original character as a Moorish palace is seen to have almost disappeared. There still, however, remains the indisputable fact, apparent from what does remain of the work of its builders, that it was always a work of art and a trophy of the skill of its designers, those who have interfered with it subsequently having far from improved it.
According to Arab historians, the foundations of this palace were laid in 1171a.d.and it was reconstructed between 1353 and 1364. In 1762 a fire did considerable damage, which was not repaired till 1805. The inscriptions are of no great historical interest. "Wa lá ghálib ílá Allah"—"there is none victorious but God"—abounds here, as at the Alhambra, and there are some very neat specimens of the Kufic character.
Of Moorish Sevílle, apart from the Girálda and the Palace—El Kasar, corrupted into Alcazar—the only remains of importance are the Torre del Oro—Borj ed-Daheb—built in 1220 at the riverside, close to where the Moors had their bridge of boats, and the towers of the churches of SS. Marcos and Marina. Others there are, built in imitation of the older erections, often by Moorish architects, as those of the churches of Omnium Sanctorum, San Nicolas, Ermita de la Virgen, and Santa Catalina. Many private houses contain arches, pillars, and other portions of Moorish buildings which have preceded them, such as are also to be found in almost every town of southern Spain. As late as 1565 the town had thirteen gates more or less of Moorish origin, but these have all long since disappeared.
[page 352]
Sevílle was one of the first cities to surrender to the Moors after the battle of Guadalete,a.d.711, and remained in their hands till taken by St. Ferdinand after fifteen months' siege in 1248, six years after its inhabitants had thrown off their allegiance to the Emperor of Morocco, and formed themselves into a sort of republic, and ten years after the Moorish Kingdom of Granáda was founded. It then became the capital of Spain till Charles V. removed the Court to Valladolid.
"O Palace Red! From distant lands I have come to see thee, believing thee to be a garden in spring, but I have found thee as a tree in autumn. I thought to see thee with my heart full of joy, but instead my eyes have filled with tears."
So wrote in the visitors' album of the Alhambra, in 1876, an Arab poet in his native tongue, and another inscription in the same volume, written by a Moor some years before, remarks, "Peace be on thee, O Granáda! We have seen thee and admired thee, and have said, 'Praised be he who constructed thee, and may they who destroyed thee receive mercy.'"
As the sentiments of members of the race of its builders, these expressions are especially interesting; but they can hardly fail to be shared to some extent by visitors from eastern lands, of whatever nationality. Although the loveliest monument of Moorish art in Spain, and a specimen of their highest architectural skill, destructions, mutilations, and restorations have[page 353]wrought so much damage to it that it now stands, indeed, "as a tree in autumn." It was not those who conquered the Moors on whom mercy was implored by the writer quoted—for they, Ferdinand and Isabella, did their best to preserve their trophy—but on such of their successors as Charles V., who actually planted a still unfinished palace right among the buildings of this venerable spot, adjoining the remains of the Alhambra, part of which it has doubtless replaced.
This unartistic Austrian styled these remains "the ugly abominations of the Moors," and forthwith proceeded to erect really ugly structures. But the most unpardonable destroyers of all that the Moors left beautiful were, perhaps, the French, who in 1810 entered Granáda with hardly a blow, and under Sebastian practically desolated the palace. They turned it into barracks and storehouses, as inscriptions on its walls still testify—notably on the sills of the "Miranda de la Reina." Ere they left in 1812, they even went so far as to blow up eight of the towers, the remainder only escaping through the negligence of an employee, and the fuses were put out by an old Spanish soldier.
The Spaniards having thus regained possession, the commissioners appointed to look after it "sold everything for themselves, and then, like good patriots, reported that the invaders had left nothing." After a brief respite in the care of an old woman, who exhibited more sense in the matter than all the generals who had perpetrated such outrages upon it, the Alhambra was again desecrated by a new Governor, who used it as a store of salt fish for the galley slaves.